Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Nope.
Not looking at the birds.
Thinking about your brother.
And how it feels to kiss him.
And his sad story that he’s never told another soul.
“I’m cooked, if you want the truth,” I mutter. “I need to go take a nap.”
I’ve been in the front room for a couple of hours with Noah and Wes.
I was pretending to be studying, staring out the window and gazing at the neat stone flowerbeds full of wildflowers.
Beyond the row of leafy green hedges that surround our yard, I can see past the iron fence into the end of the Luros House yard, where they have dozens of red rose bushes.
I’ve been thinking about everything.
Thinking about nothing, too.
I wasn’t able to sleep well again last night.
Again, my dreams were about Hunter.
I stand up from the sofa and stretch my body. I’m sore as hell, too, because I’ve been hitting the gym harder than I ever have before.
I’ve suddenly been feeling an urgent need to keep my body strong and conditioned, even more than usual.
Like I need to be prepared.
For my attacker, or… for Hunter?
I don’t even want to fucking know.
Oliver comes into the front room as I’m on my way out.
He’s shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat, and he clearly just finished a workout himself. He’s holding a bottle in his hand.
Noah drops his jaw like a cartoon character, reaching out a finger and giving Ollie’s bulging bicep a poke.
“Obscene,” Noah says. “Rayne. Wes. We’ve got to hit the gym harder if Ollie is giving us competition like this. Fucking monster biceps.”
I’m not sure I could hit the gym much harder than I have been, but Ollie is looking ripped, and certainly doesn’t seem as shy as he did his first night in Onyx.
“How would you say that in Latin, Noah?” Weston says with a grin.
“Magnus,” Noah says. “Absolutely fucking magnus, bro.”
Weston laughs.
“They’re not that big,” Oliver protests.
Noah rolls his eyes. “You have no idea how hot you are, Ollie. You’re the kind of person who can’t recognize how good you look. We’ve already established that.”
“Meanwhile you think you’re God’s gift to the Crimson campus,” Wes jokes, flicking Noah’s thigh.
“What’s that bottle, Ollie?” Noah says as he flicks Weston back.
Oliver lifts his hand, waving around a big bottle of pale green liquor.
“Absinthe. A guy in my English class hooked me up,” he tells us.
“Oh fuck, he got us the good shit,” Noah says. “We’re going to crack into this later. Go take your nap, Colson.”
I take the stairs up slowly.
The moment I’m alone and away from the other guys, I’m lost in thought about what Hunter told me.
I was gutted when I heard the truth.
He told me everything.
And by the time he finished, I was holding back tears and he just got up and left the library.
Now I walk into my room.
Our room.
His knives always reflect the light from the window. He’s out somewhere now, but his presence is all over this room.
I wish it were gone.
I wish everything was different, for him and for me.
No matter how fucked up Hunter is, he didn’t deserve to see what he saw.
But I feel like a crazy person the moment I start to feel sympathetic toward him, too.
Right now I just want to shut the whole fucking world out.
I lie down in bed.
And I drift off into a nap easily.
The moment I slip into dreams, I’m lost in him.
Dreaming that I’m back in the locker room, but instead of ignoring him, I pull back the curtain. In the steam, I reach out, pulling Hunter in under the water with me.
I know it must be a dream because in reality, Hunter would never be crying. But there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I’d never seen before.
And I need to help him.
I wrap my arms around him and rest my forehead against his.
“You’re not broken,” I tell him, and when I pull back to look in his eyes, I feel a tug.
That same stupid, sympathetic tug that I always get for broken things.
New guys in the corner who are too shy to talk.
Wounded birds on the sidewalk who I always have to help.
And now, apparently, Hunter Knox, too.
Why can’t I just let him be?
Ignore him?
Why does my stupid heart always have to care?
“I want to hurt you,” Hunter murmurs to me in the dream.
“So hurt me,” I tell him. “Hurt me as much as you want. Doesn’t mean I’m just going to give up on you like the rest of the world did.”
Even as I say it I feel the fear that comes right along with it.
I can’t get involved with him.
Can’t get sucked in.
He leans in to crush his mouth to mine again and when he kisses me, I allow him to possess me.
His tongue sliding on mine is intoxicating.
Like I’m free falling into his darkness.
And I’m not even a little bit afraid.